When you feel you're going crazy,
Yet, the world is really bad.
Hearing the words " you are mental",
Leaves you feeling very sad.

On days when everything's a struggle,
And nothing goes your way.
If only there was a reverse button,
To take these woes away.

When future looks so grim for many,
I feel Ike I can't moan.
Yet in a world if greed aplenty,
I am not alone.

rather yours truly doth thrive
on keeping the ethos, mythos,
and pathos of Pigpen alive
subjected to eternal
abomination, brutalization,
condemnation, damnation,
emasculation, humiliation, ostracization,
who one day envisions himself
as a decrepit solitudinarian
an aging long haired baby boomer,

Doubt is upon us
the feeling is gone
overcast skies
tell us to move on

We keep moving forward
not intending to trip,
but the haze in our hearts
leaves us lonely and sick

We look to tomorrow
as only a dream
One which arrives
with a caterwaul scream

We seek for a reason
just to press on,
but our hearts fail in passing
elusive the dawn!

The daylight approaches
along with the sun
The cycle is over
the skirmish is won!

Her family, taken by fire ...
rescued by a stranger
she, an artistic child
not 'til now in danger.

Thirteen, timid and shy, verses
old man of forty-five,
watching her every move
it made him come alive.

Music tuned in, she glided free
with graceful hands floating
above her slender waist
was her way of coping.

engaging her feet, she danced
abandoned to the night .
Curvature of her neck
arching back in moonlight.